


home is wherever i'm with you

by manycoloureddays



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 13:12:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5249453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manycoloureddays/pseuds/manycoloureddays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In hindsight Éponine should never have introduced them to her friends. That was the problem with hindsight really; it was a fucking pain in her arse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	home is wherever i'm with you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goodbye_fornow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodbye_fornow/gifts).



> i went with theywillcomewhenwecall's "Maybe just a family bonding and fluff fic between the three of them please? " prompt... i hope there's enough fluff in here to satisfy ! thanks for the opportunity to write a sibling fic !
> 
> title from Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros because how do you write about home without thinking of that song?
> 
> thanks as always to my wonderful editor in chief blackravenswing

_Five Days Until Christmas_

 

In hindsight she should never have introduced them to her friends. That was the problem with hindsight really; it was a fucking pain in her arse. Not only were her friends a bunch of co-dependent dorks who had a tendency to latch onto people and never let go, they were also a bunch of unfairly attractive, charismatic dorks. She whispered those sentiments to Gavroche, who had draped himself across her shoulders to watch the terrible, horrible thing with her. He snorted - the air and potential snot hot on her ear - and without turning Éponine could tell he was rolling his eyes.

She was squashed into the corner of Musichetta’s stupidly comfortable couch, Cosette curled up next to her, and, judging from the patterned socks and battered trainers she could see out of the corner of her eye, Combeferre and Feuilly at the other end.

“ _You_ didn’t introduce _me_ ,” Gavroche muttered. “But I agree with the general principle. This is awful. You’re my big sister, aren’t you supposed to protect me from things like this?”

She reached behind her to cover his eyes with her hands, unable to tear her own eyes away. It was horrible. It was terrible. It was awful. It was –

Azelma smiled coyly, tucking hair behind one ear, and, and she was blushing. Lord help them, she was blushing.

“Well, I shouldn’t have introduced her then,” and in the most disbelieving tone she could muster, “ _Enjolras_ though?” Cosette giggled, and Combeferre outright chuckled at her pain.

“Hey, she has better taste than you,” and, well that was fair. Gavroche was the only one there for the entire Marius debacle, and therefore was the only one allowed to call her on it. But still. _Enjolras?_ “You should ask R. I’m sure he’ll explain it.”

“How do you -? Never mind. It’s you, of course you know.” She caught his wicked grin out of the corner of her eye before it was covered with a low flying pillow. Looking up she saw Grantaire, face caught somewhere between a glare and a smirk. She rolled her eyes. Like she said, her friends were ridiculous. Twenty two going on twelve. “It’s not that I don’t get the appeal. Well, no, _I_ don’t get the appeal, but I understand it’s there… It’s just… _such_ a bad idea.”

“Such an awkward idea,” Gavroche’s voice came from the opposite side of the couch. She glanced over at Grantaire again, and sure enough he was blinking in disbelief, wild curls plastered to his face, water dripping off the tip of his nose.

“ _Gav,”_ she sighed. Really, she could not take either of them out in public. If they weren’t flirting horrifically with her friends, they were dumping water on their heads. Azelma and Gavroche were going to collectively ruin her reputation. She was going to end up giggling, or worse giggling _fondly,_ and then she’d never hear the end of it. Before she could do more than sigh at him though, Gav was off running, leaping over chairs, and dodging Joly’s walking stick (that night it was the Shillelagh they’d bought him for his birthday), chased by a wet and laughing Grantaire.

The crash of furniture and floorboards distracted Azelma, who rolled her eyes and stuck out her foot. Éponine learnt twelve years ago that attempts to stop Gavroche, even just a crawling Gavroche, only ever end badly for people who weren’t Gavroche. It wasn’t surprising at all then, when instead of tripping Gavroche up Azelma tripped Grantaire, who, defying all laws of logic (normal) and physics (not so normal), managed to stay upright, spinning on the spot. The entire room froze, conversations grinding to a halt in deference to the farce and the destruction of science.

“Can someone please confirm what my eyes just saw?” Bahoral demanded. It broke the spell. Azelma shook her head furiously, as if it would make the impossible image suddenly make sense. Musichetta whistled. Joly and Bossuet broke into applause. Grantaire dropped the look of exaggerated betrayal he’d been directing at Azelma and bowed for his audience.

“Seriously guys, what just happened?”

“Ten years of ballet lessons just happened,” Grantaire snagged Bahoral’s beer, winking and dancing out of his reach. “Suck it.” Cosette, who had been giggling into her hand for the entire exchange, suddenly went still at Éponine’s side before burrowing her face in Éponine’s shoulder. When she made a confused noise, Cosette just shook her head and whispered “sometimes I think he forgets how much bigger Bahoral is.” Éponine looked over at Grantaire again, only to witness dawning realisation all over again. Bahoral was stalking towards him, a wicked grin on his face.

“Azelma,” Grantaire begged, eyes locked on Bahoral. “Azeellmaaaa,” his begging now a whine, he tugged on her sleeve, “hide me!” Éponine had never been more proud of her baby sister than when she managed to roll her eyes and look entirely unaffected by the boys’ antics, while placing herself directly between Bahoral and Grantaire, immovable. She smiled, catching Azelma’s wink in her direction.

“That’s my girl,” she whispered. Cosette squeezed her knee, smiling too.

Bahoral’s pleading “aw c’mon squirt” and Grantaire’s “You are my absolute favourite, A. I swear I’ll love you forever” didn’t seem to affect her. Éponine let the noise fade into the background. She hooked her legs over Cosette’s and settled in to watch.

 

 

A few hours later Gavroche led the way home from Grantaire-Joly-Bossuet-Musichetta’s. They paused at the turnoff to Éponine and Cosette’s apartment, the two kids waving goodbye when Cosette said she’d meet Éponine at home. She walked them to the grimy, two-star hotel their parents own, not stepping off the city owned footpath. She murmured goodbye. Kissed the top of Azelma’s head - a stretch these days given how determined Azelma was to be taller than her - and hugged Gavroche, though he tried to wriggle out of it. Then she turned and walked back in the direction of the slightly less dilapidated apartment building she currently called home. It wasn’t until the lift doors opened that she noticed the shadow she had acquired on her way. She’d worry she was getting sloppy, but Éponine knew she’d never be able to out sneak Gavroche. He had been tailing her unnoticed for nearly forty minutes though, so she allowed a small amount of discomfort.

“What the fuck,” she also knew better than to phrase the words as a question. Gavroche’s face stayed carefully blank. He was carrying a grey duffle bag that was bursting at the seams. The doors closed behind them, but the lift didn’t move off the ground floor. Gav rolled his eyes, reaching around her to push the button for her floor. “You’ll strain a muscle or something if you keep doing that.” All that got her, surprise, surprise, was yet another eye roll. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on? You know you’re always welcome. We told you that you don’t have to break in again” she trailed off. It was best not to bring sleeping arrangements up with Gavroche. They would have him every night if it meant he didn’t have to see the parent’s that couldn’t even muster up enough interest to hate him. Unfortunately the government prioritised even the shadiest financial security over the emotionally stable home of two students.

Her brother was very good at making people feel at ease around him – it still wasn’t clear whether he would grow up to use his powers for good or evil – but he also had a knack for creating awkward silences when it suited him to keep someone on their toes. She knew him as well as she supposed Gavroche _could_ be known, and she still found it difficult to get a read on him when he went silent. So instead she stayed silent too. Silent while they waited for her floor, silent walking down the hall, silent opening the door. She stayed silent until Cosette walked through from the kitchen holding two mugs.

“I made you tea,” she began, before she noticed the unexpected thirteen year old behind Éponine. “Gav?” She looked between them, confused but - and this was one of the reasons Éponine loved her - she took it in her stride. Cosette had a way of smiling through problems that Éponine did not understand, but put people at ease just as much as Gavroche’s charm. “What’s up?” And just like that the dam seemed to break.

“They’re leaving. In the morning. I don’t know where they’re going, but they’re leaving the city and I don’t think they’re coming back this time.” He didn’t cry, his voice didn’t even shake. Éponine felt an anger so overwhelming she wanted to punch something.

Punch something or throw up. Gav wrapped a hand around her fist, and quirked a half smile. “Don’t, ‘Ponine. They’re not worth it.”

“Are you, saying goodbye?” Cosette asked. Éponine didn’t have space in her brain for questions yet. She was glad someone did.

“Nah,” he shrugged. “I can’t leave. They can’t make me. We were at a, what’s that word?”

“Impasse?” Cosette supplied.

“Yeah, we were at an impasse. So the old lady yelled at me for a bit, and dad said if I wasn’t coming I should get my stuff and leave.”

“You didn’t have time for that though,” Éponine found words again. “You couldn’t have been more than a minute behind me at most. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“Thought I could convince Azelma to stay too, after tonight. Thought maybe she’d see what a proper family, well, you know.” He looked down at where his feet were playing with the edge of the carpet. Her need to run to the bathroom was winning out over her need to put a hole in the wall. Instead she wrapped her arms around her brother, tucking him under her chin, and for once, he let her. If she could stand as a shield between Gavroche and her parents, if he would stop moving, stop putting himself out of arms reach, she would stand there forever. She heard Cosette move back into the kitchen, giving them some space.

“It’ll be okay,” she whispered into his hair. They stood like that, with Gavroche holding on tight like he did when he was a baby and she was the only person who touched him. “It’ll be okay. I’ve got you.” He sniffled, and then pulled himself free. He didn’t step away though.

“What about Azelma?” He looked around their tiny lounge room. “We can’t stay here, you don’t have room.” As though summoned, Cosette appeared again, holding out two mugs, both filled with hot chocolate.

“Of course you can stay here. Éponine and I can share my room, and you and Azelma can take hers. If that’s okay with you?” Éponine nodded. “We’ll be a bit tight for space, but we can start looking for somewhere else, and it’ll be perfectly manageable for now.”

“And much better than the rooms they have you in at the moment for that matter.”

“As long as you’re happy to share Ép’s double bed for a few days. I’m sure we can find two singles somewhere,” she looked at Éponine, as though she had any answers. “We can ask papa.”

Éponine watched Gavroche’s face carefully during the whole exchange, waiting for what, she wouldn’t know until she saw it. He seemed to be taking Cosette’s plan in his stride though; watching the two of them just as carefully as she watched him, and drinking his hot chocolate as though it was going to disappear if he didn’t finish it quickly.

“That’s a problem for tomorrow though. Tonight I’m going to get Azelma.” Cosette nodded, heading for her coat, while Gavroche skulled the last of his drink and headed for the door.

“Guys,” they looked over. “ _I’m_ going to get Azelma. You’re going to stay here.”

“Yeah, like that’s going to happen,” Gavroche crossed his arms. Cosette, standing behind him, did the same. If Gav was moving in, and this was going to be a regular thing, she was never going to get her way again.

“Ugh, fine,” she took her coat from Cosette’s outstretched hand. “But neither of you are stepping a foot over the threshold, do you understand?” They nodded. “Good. Because I don’t trust any of them.”

 

 

It turned out that Azelma had not needed much convincing to leave after all, just the assurance of a roof over her head when she did. When her dad had opened the door to find her flanked by Cosette and Gavroche he’d smiled. One of those just-this-side-of-creepy, self satisfied smiles of approval she’d hungered after when she was younger.

“I suppose you’re here for your sister,” he gestured her inside, and rolled his eyes, an expression eerily similar to one of Gavroche’s when she made sure the other two stayed on the right side of the door. “I don’t know why you can’t just trust your family Éponine.” She snorted. He led her down a hallway that looked newly renovated; except for the unidentifiable stains on a section of the wall it looked almost habitable. “She’s in there.”

Éponine waited for him to leave. Then she knocked their super secret knock and waited. It was barely thirty seconds before the door was thrown open and she had an armful of Azelma, and a mouthful of hair.

“Well, that’s a flattering greeting,” she squeezed her sister, before stepping back so she could look her in the eye. “I only said goodbye two hours ago.” Azelma gave her a watery smile. “What’s this I hear about you forgetting to tell me about travel plans?”

“I didn’t want to bother you and Cosette.”

“Consider Cosette and I completely unbothered, and looking forward to having two new roommates.” Azelma blinked, her face relaxing.

“You’re sure?” She didn’t wait for Éponine to respond. She was already picking up the two bags that were sitting, neatly packed, on the end of her bed.

“So sure,” Éponine smiled. “Come on then,” she grabbed Azelma’s hand, dragging her back down the hall, and out into the main reception. Cosette and Gavroche were still waiting on the step. It looked like Gav was trying to teach Cosette how to lift a wallet. Éponine squeezed Azelma’s hand, her smile growing. “Alright people, let’s blow this popsicle stand.” The complete set of eye rolls she received were mostly worth it.

 

 

When the four of them eventually made it home Azelma was dragging her feet with exhaustion and Cosette was almost asleep on Éponine’s shoulder. Thanking any omniscient being that might be listening that there was a working elevator in their building they bundled inside; Gavroche somehow had enough energy to attempt to race them up the stairs.

“You have a tree!” Azelma exclaimed, brightening immediately in the glow of the multi coloured lights – none of those boring white lights for Cosette.

“It doesn’t feel like Christmas if I don’t have a tree,” Cosette yawned.

“Here’s the deal guys,” Éponine said, unwinding the scarf from around her neck as the other three dramatically collapsed on the carpet. “I’m exhausted, you’re exhausted, so unless any of you have a better idea, you two,” she poked her siblings with her boots, “are sharing my bed. And you,” she pulled Cosette up, even as she groaned in protest, “and I will have to share. Is that alright?” She whispered the question. It was one thing for Gavroche and Azelma to be ignored and kicked out by their parents; that was shitty but not shocking. She’d rather they didn’t feel like a burden here. Cosette just rolled her eyes, brushing a kiss across Éponine’s cheek.

“Sounds like a plan love. Now, I’m going to go faceplant on my bed. Feel free to shove me to one side when you come in,” Cosette kissed Azelma on the head, and poked Gavroche’s nose as she headed towards her bedroom. “Night all.”

It took a little longer to herd the other two into bed; herding Gavroche was like herding a kitten, and herding a sleepy Azelma was like herding an inanimate object. Eventually she had them cleaning their teeth, knocking elbows and trying to make each other dribble toothpaste on their pyjamas like they used to, and heading into bed.

“Shove over,” Gavroche whined, flopping face first onto Azelma’s stomach and making her squeal.

“Get off me you weirdo,” Azelma whined back, batting at him uselessly.

Éponine rolled the two of them over, rolling her eyes. It wasn’t the first time they’d shared a bed. It should not be this hard. Once she was satisfied with their positions, she lay down on the edge of the bed, curling herself around Azelma to make sure she didn’t fall off.

“Tell us a story ‘Ponine,” Gavroche murmured, well on his way to sleep now he was actually horizontal.  Azelma pulled her arm tighter around her waist and nodded in agreement.

“Okay. Once upon a shooting star…”

 

 

When she finally clambered into bed next to Cosette, the kids having fallen asleep halfway through the intergalactic battle, the other girl was mostly asleep, her half open eyes illuminated by her phone screen. She rolled onto her side to face Éponine, taking hold of one of her hands.

“How are they?” she whispered, her breath warm on Éponine’s nose. In the muted darkness, holding Cosette’s hand, wrapped in blankets that smelled like her, Éponine felt safe. She let the few tears she had been holding back since she’d held Gavroche earlier that evening fall onto the pillow. Cosette made a small sad sound, snuggling closer to run her free hand through Éponine’s hair. “We’ll make sure they’re okay.”

“You reckon?” Éponine managed to keep most of the sarcasm out of her voice, mostly thanks to the tears.

“Yeah, I do,” Cosette kissed the tip of Éponine’s nose. “We’ll give them a good Christmas.”

“When you decorated the lounge room you called me Scrooge. Am I really the best person to give them a festive Christmas?”

“You have me don’t you?” Éponine could hear the smile in Cosette’s voice. The certainty. “My role as a Christmas fairy far outranks your Scroogeness anyway.”

Éponine snorted.

“Go to sleep Christmas fairy.” As if on command, Cosette’s breathing slowed and she was asleep in seconds. “Thank you,” Éponine whispered into her hair. “Thank you.”

 

 

 

_Four Days Until Christmas_

 

It didn’t take more than a phone call first thing in the morning for Cosette’s dad to put them in touch with a family he knew who were looking to buy a cheap double bed. He also offered to buy them two single beds, but Éponine, hating to be indebted to anyone, insisted she would pay him back when she had the money.

“Honestly, Cosette, I’ll pick up a few extra shifts, maybe work New Years Eve. It’ll be fine.” Cosette, rolling her eyes and looking like she wanted to drag her heels, relayed the message to Valjean.

Then it was just a matter of borrowing his car to pick them up.

 

When they got the beds home Éponine forbade Cosette from helping set them up.

“Remember when you tried to put your desk together?” was enough to get her sitting on the couch with her laptop, pouting, but still refraining from touching anything. Leaving her with internet access meant that by the time the wood and bolts began to resemble bed frames there was a knock at the door.

Gavroche jumped up, hurdling over debris, and bellowing – probably directly in someone’s face  - “THEY’RE HERE”.

Éponine had stupidly nice friends. Of course, she had known this already. Her friends were wonderful, occasionally terrible people. She had to remind herself several times that she did not need to cry because there were twelve extra people in her apartment helping the four of them repaint her old room and rearrange furniture.

Bahoral had brought over leftovers that “won’t get eaten at my place. Seriously, you guys would be doing me a favour”. Grantaire had gifted Gavroche a stack of old comics and novels to “mess up your half of the room”, and Jehan had given Azelma several ‘spare’ copies of books he thought she’d be interested in. When the room was looking very much like it belonged to the two teenagers, all of Éponine’s things haphazardly stored on and around Cosette’s desk, it was collectively decided that they would eat at Grantaire-Joly-Bossuet-Musichetta’s. Not only was it around the corner, but it also had at least one room big enough to fit all of them. As they filed out to shouts of ‘PIZZA’, bumping into each other, making as much noise as a victorious football team, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake, Azelma slid up behind Éponine and hooked her chin over her shoulder.

“I like your friends.”

“They are all absolutely off limits. Including - _especially_ Enjolras.” Azelma jabbed a sharp nail into Éponine’s side.

“Not what I meant _at_ all!”

“No?”

“No! Jeez, invasive much? I just meant… I like your friends. They love you a lot. I’m glad you have people like that in your life ‘Ponine.” She kissed her cheek and hurried off after Cosette and Musichetta who were waving her over.

“It’s true.” Éponine shoved an elbow backwards. “What the hell was that for?!”

“Don’t sneak up on me. You were saying?” Grantaire rolled his eyes.

“Nope, you get no declarations of love after that,” he slung an arm around her neck, leading her towards the front door. “Come on Thenardier, I think Chetta said something about pizza.”

“You love pizza more than me,” she huffed, burrowing into his side when they made their way onto the landing.

“I love pizza more than most people,” he smirked, holding out a lighter. She took it and lit the cigarette he fumbled out of his pocket then plucked it from his fingers. “But not you.” He kissed the top of her head. They walked the two-block distance in companionable silence, trading the cigarette back and forth between them. Before she could follow the others inside he stopped her, turning to the side to face her.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it,” and he was definitely right about that. He paused, clearly giving her an out, but it wasn’t often he managed to look this serious so she nodded instead. “This is a lot for you to take on-“

“It’s not-“

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t. I’m not even going to suggest that this isn’t the right thing. I think what you’re doing is amazing.” She grimaced. There were things that she knew only Grantaire would understand about her life. But giving Gavroche and Azelma a home, a hopefully stable home, was not amazing. It wasn’t a choice. “No, shut up-“

“I didn’t say anything,” she muttered.

“Your face did. I’ll have you know I’m very perceptive. We all think what you’re doing is amazing.” So they’d all been talking about her. Fantastic. “And if you need anything, I know you won’t ask, but can you please accept help that’s offered? Or at least consider it?” She nodded.

“I’ll consider it.” He clapped her on the shoulder and steered her towards the door.

“That’s all any of us can ask, apparently.”

 

_Three Days Until Christmas_

 

Éponine and Cosette were eating a breakfast of leftover brownies and peanut butter from the jar when Gavroche burst through the front door. He was out of breath, but a quick scan of his face ruled out most of the nightmare situations she’d planned for. Taking a deep breath before diving into the fridge, words tumbled out of his mouth.

“Hey, can’t stop. Sticking to the rules and showing my face because I respect you and all that. Bahoral’s taking me out for brunch.” Scratch that. There was a nightmare situation she hadn’t even considered. She exchanged a Look with Cosette, who attempted to hide laughter while she mopped up Éponine’s coffee.

“I’m sorry, what?” Gavroche turned around to deliver an eye roll.

“Bahoral. Is. Taking. Me. Out. For. Brunch,” he repeated slowly with exaggerated eye contact. She really had to put a limit on the amount of time he spent with Grantaire.

“Okaaaaay,” she drew the word out long past coherency, floundering for a response. Cosette continuing to be unhelpful only smiled enigmatically before pulling out her phone and, presumably, alerting the world to Éponine’s pain. “Don’t get me wrong I am happy for you to _brunch_ with Bahoral,” she grimaced through the obvious confusion in her voice. “But, since when are you a brunch person? Since when do you even know what brunch is?”

“Hey! I can be fancy!” His voice emerged affronted from the fridge, along with the sound of something being pocketed. One day, Éponine hoped, he’d stop trying to hide that. She hoped. “’Sides,” he mumbled around an apple, backing towards the door. “Bahoral said he’d pay me if I could beat his pancake record.”

“And, there it is,” Cosette’s voice was laced with benevolent laughter, reminding Éponine inexplicably of a Disney princess. Once Gavroche darted out the door again she passed her phone over to Éponine, open on a text from Grantaire dictating the time and place of ‘what promises to be the most epic pancake battle of our time’. “So, we’re going, right?”

“Um, yeah.” Éponine didn’t think she’d ever get used to being the kind of person who could put a smile that wide on someone’s face. But she had found she was quite happy to keep being surprised by it. Cosette dumped their breakfast things in the sink and grabbed their coats while Éponine stuck her head into the kids’ bedroom. Azelma was stretched out on her bed with her headphones in, so Éponine flopped on her legs to get her attention.

“Oh my god! What do you want?” Occasionally, when Éponine could be bothered thinking about them, she was eternally grateful that she got to unleash all kinds of teenage hell on her parents before they bailed.

“Wanna come watch Gavroche and Bahoral make themselves sick with pancakes?” Azelma was already pulling on boots by the time she started on “I’ll even buy a stack for us to share?”

“I won’t say no to pancakes –“

“Good, because if you did I’d have to disown you,” Éponine hooked her arm through Azelma’s.

“ _But_ , you had me at ‘make themselves sick’.”

They were both cackling when they met Cosette at the front door. She shook her head fondly, linking arms with Éponine. The three of them followed Gavroche’s distant figure down the street, tangled and laughing.

 

 

Twenty-four pancakes later Gavroche stood on the cushioned seat of the booth, punching the air triumphantly. Their corner of the café erupted in cheers, Bahoral’s included in the general din. He reached over to mess up Gavroche’s hair.

“Nice one kid. That’s three more than I could eat at your age, I’m impressed.”

Gavroche smirked, counting out his winnings. “I’m very impressive.” The boys – a collective that currently included Bahoral, Grantaire, Joly, Bossuet, Marius, and Combeferre – laughed appreciatively.

The more she watched him interact with the boys the more she understood how ten university students had decided to adopt a thirteen year old. Gavroche had been right the other night, of course. He had met the boys two weeks before Éponine. She’d gone out after class with Marius and Grantaire one evening and bumped into Gav, regaling some of the others with one of his stories. After being assured that they were only buying him Coke, she’d sat down and watched as they hung on his every word. He _was_ impressive.

He was also drinking maple syrup from a glass. He was an enigma.

She pushed him down so he was no longer attracting glares from the man behind the counter. The buzzing energy was no longer just victory related. He was tapping along to the song playing on the radio with a spoon, bouncing up and down in his seat. She glared at Bahoral when it looked like he was gathering his things together. He raised his hands in surrender, settling back in next to Grantaire. _Good,_ she thought. She was not being left alone to deal with Gavroche’s sugar high.

“Pancakes on you, kid?” Éponine nudged Gavroche with her shoulder. He held the notes in front of her before waving his hands dramatically and making them disappear. “Didn’t think so.”

 

 

That night Éponine tossed and turned until she was worried she’d wake Cosette. She snuck out of bed, pulled on a jacket and boots, and left a note on her pillow.

_Gone Walking_

_x_

She walked around the block, and when she still felt restless when she arrived in front of the building door she headed further out.

Wandering the campus at night was how she’d met Grantaire the year before. Both of them had trouble sleeping, and their on-campus rooms were relatively close together. Now they were living twenty minutes apart they didn’t bump into each other as often. It did still happen though.

Tonight, Éponine was happy to be alone. Grantaire never encroached on her silence; able to read when she wanted company and when she wanted conversation. But tonight she needed space.

It had only been two days but she was worried about still being worried. Worried her parents would decide they wanted Azelma and Gavroche back. Worried that, worse than that, they would only want Azelma back. Worried that someone would come and take them away. Worried that she and Cosette wouldn’t be able to make it work - financially, emotionally, practically.

Éponine hated worrying. It made her stomach turn. It made her feel helpless.

Gavroche and Azelma’s faces on a continuous loop in her head she made her way back home.

Before crawling back into bed beside Cosette though, Éponine spent ten minutes sitting on the floor in the doorway of Gavroche and Azelma’s bedroom trying to match their breathing.

 

_Two Days Until Christmas_

 

“But I wanted ice cream!”

“Well sucks to be you then because we already have cookies”

“But at home we said ice cream. I was promised ice cream. I am here right now because the word ice cream was said, and –“ before they could go through another round of he said, she said, they said and _her_ head exploded Éponine plucked the ice cream out of Azelma’s hands, dumped it in the basket next to Gavroche’s cookies, contemplated shutting herself in the very inviting freezer she was standing next to, shook her head because _no, not even worth it,_ then turned and stalked off towards the front. She heard the sounds of both of her wonderful, adorable, in no way actually terrible siblings scrambling to grab the basket and catch up. Problem solved, she smirked. Big sister – 1, teenagers – 0.

“Well, it’s been real fun,” Gavroche started, plucking his cookies out of the bag and inching backwards. “But, you know how it goes. Places to go, people to see.”

And he was melting into the crowd before either of them could yell “at least carry a bag to the car!”

 

 

“He’s the worst!” Azelma groaned, dumping the five full bags she’d been carrying in the boot of Musichetta’s car before sliding in beside Éponine.

“He’s not the _worst_ ,” Courfeyrac attempted, turning around to smile at them from the passenger seat. It earned him twin glares.

“He is the worst,” Azelma repeated flatly.

“It is known.”

Musichetta and Courfeyrac, only child and youngest by nearly a decade respectively, just chuckled, clearly ignorant of the sisters’ pain.  

“Joly called when I was in the patisserie. There’s been a, and I quote, ‘Christmas Light Emergency’. I didn’t ask,” Chetta said, anticipating Azelma’s question, and smirking at her in the rear view mirror. “It does mean that the four of us won’t be going out for a well earned coffee, but we’ll spend enough time together over the next three days I dare say you may not even miss me.”

“Lies and slander,” Éponine said dryly, returning the kiss Musichetta blew.

“Ugh, you guys practically live in each other’s pockets, I think we’ll be fine,” sometimes Azelma seemed older than her sixteen years, Éponine thought, and other times, well, the eye roll was pure teenager.

 

 

“It’s five at yours tomorrow, yeah?” Éponine jumped out of the car, grabbing their bags from the boot.

“Whenever you want love, but five’s as good a time as any,” Musichetta waved before tearing off down the street.

“YOU’RE A MANIAC,” Éponine yelled after her, laughing and shaking her head.

 

 

The girls dragged themselves into the apartment, feet hurting, and arms laden with bags. She’d forgotten what they’d come home with in the end, after a day seemingly buying as much food as they could collectively afford. The go to explanation had been “it’s Christmas” but most of Éponine’s early memories of Christmas feasts had been forgotten in lieu of the more recent ones. If she didn’t know that they were a bunch of saps who overdid holiday celebrations regardless of the holiday in question Éponine would be seriously suspicious that it was for her benefit.

“Fuck,” she groaned, flopping down onto the couch. Then “ _fuck”_.

Azelma cackled from the kitchen she’d somehow managed to stumble into. The couch was really not the flopping onto kind. Grantaire, Joly, and Bossuet had found it in an undisclosed location last year. When Musichetta moved in her one stipulation was that she never had to cohabit with the couch. Cosette and Éponine had gladly taken it off their hands; at the time they didn’t even have the money for old furniture. It was nowhere near as offensive as Musichetta had insisted. It was black, so they couldn’t see any of the dozens of stains they knew were definitely there, it didn’t smell too strongly of tobacco or R’s cat. It did, however, have one problem. They had to be careful when picking a spot to ease themselves down; otherwise they ran the risk of hitting the original couch cushions, and not the fluffy pillows Musichetta had provided on handover.

“How are you not used to that by now?” Azelma appeared in the doorway, holding a promisingly shaped bottle and the tub of ice cream. Éponine made grabby hands at her sister. When Azelma stood close enough she pulled her down onto the couch beside her, making sure she hit the hardest bit at the edge of the cushions.

“Shit! Fucking ow ‘Ponine,” she grouched, carefully placing the bottle on the floor before shoving Éponine off her. It was Éponine’s turn to cackle when the violence of the shove meant Azelma whacked her head on the arm of the couch.

“Ooh, come here,” she cooed, dragging Azelma in for a sloppily dramatic kiss on the forehead. The three of them weren’t particularly demonstrative siblings; their affection usually came in the form of compliments hidden under layers of sarcasm, or in insults spat at mutual enemies. The one notable exception to this rule was an unbreakable snuggling habit. When they were younger, and left alone overnight, Gavroche and Azelma used to crawl into bed with Éponine. She would tell them stories about pirates and dragons and children who, with only a small knowledge of magic, managed to defeat poorly disguised warlocks and ogres. Looking back, she realised she had not been particularly subtle in her casting. It was why she was not studying creative writing.

She reached for the remote and the bottle, just barely managing to reach them without getting up. When she’d comfortably curled up in one corner of the couch, Azelma wrapped her octopus limbs around her, her head on Éponine’s shoulder.

“What do you wanna watch?”

“Whatever’s on TV?” She half shrugged, not wanting to jostle Azelma’s head. “I’m not getting up to put a movie on, and Cosette won’t be home to help for at least half an hour?” Azelma nodded. Reruns of an old sitcom it was.

 

 

Cosette found them an hour and a half later, Éponine running her fingers through Azelma’s hair while she slept across her lap. She pulled out her phone immediately, motioning at Éponine to _stay still_ and _not move_. Éponine narrowed her eyes but complied. Sometimes it was quicker to just go with it; sometimes she got slightly philosophical when she was tipsy. Combeferre would be proud.

The two of them managed to manoeuvre Azelma until she was sitting up without waking her. They carried her, slumped against Éponine’s shoulder, one arm slung over Cosette’s, into her bedroom and dumped her unceremoniously on her bed. She still didn’t wake up.

“I envy your sister sometimes,” Cosette whispered, as though her voice would wake Azelma when gravity and several knocks against doorframes hadn’t.

“Me too.” They watched Azelma sleep for another ten seconds before it got weird, then, laughing silently, they crept back out into the lounge room.

“Dinner?” Cosette asked, already walking towards the kitchen. She bypassed the fridge, heading straight for the drawer where they kept the take out menus.

“Indian?” Éponine shot back, dropping into a chair and reaching backwards to open the fridge.

“Yep. Should we order for A?” She weighed the drawbacks (less money in her wallet over the holidays) against the benefits (a happy Azelma).

“Yeah, okay. If she doesn’t want anything when she wakes up we can always eat it for lunch before we head over tomorrow.”

“Or breakfast,” Cosette twirled on her way to her phone.

“God I love you,” Éponine smiled. She started pulling out bowls and cutlery when she remembered the fourth person who lived with them. “Shit.”

“What?”

“Gavroche. I should call him.” She knew there had been nights he hadn’t let their parent’s know where he was staying; partly because most of those nights had been spent at hers. She didn’t want to set a precedent for that in their apartment though. She grabbed her phone and went to sit back on the couch. His phone nearly rang out by the time he finally answered.

“’Sup.” There were loud noises in the background, and potentially a conversation happening entirely in Spanish.

“Hey kiddo. Where are you?”

“I’m with R. We’re watching _Kingsmen_.” The next words were muffled as the phone was, presumably, grabbed out of Gav’s hand.

“He wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” R sounded apologetic. Éponine could hold it over him, blackmail him into owing her a favour, but then again he already owed her about six.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s much better than him being out on the street pretending he’s in _Kingsmen._ ”

“True that.” They were quiet then, both contemplating Gavroche armed with a gun and millions of dollars. “So, did you want him back now or can one of us drop him home later? Or...” He paused for effect. It was different to his hesitant pause. It exuded tangible drama. “He could stay over, if he wants.”

“CAN I STAY OVER?” Gav yelled loud enough that Cosette, who had just sat down next to Éponine startled.

“If your sister says yes. What d’you say ‘Ponine? Can he stay?” She looked at Cosette, who shrugged.

“Will you make sure he’s not in bed too late? And make sure he knows to be back at yours tomorrow night?”

Grantaire’s “but of course” was nearly drowned out by Gav’s “YOUR NOT MY REAL MUM”.

“I guess we’ll see you tomorrow then,” she said, hanging up after a quick goodnight. Éponine stared at the phone in her hand. She never worried about Gavroche, not really. She had never really thought to worry about him when he wasn’t with their parents because he was _Gavroche_. He was always okay. She bit her lip.

“Stop it,” Cosette warned. She smoothed a hand across Éponine’s forehead, pushing hair behind her ears. “The last few days have been hectic and everything’s been turned upside down. That doesn’t mean you have to start worrying about Gavroche.”

“How do you know I’m worrying about Gavroche?” She could already hear Cosette’s response in her head. _Because I know_ you.

“Because I know _you.”_ Spot on.

“Yeah, yeah, order the food already.” Cosette stuck out her tongue, but Éponine ignored her like the mature adult she was.

She shot off a quick text to Musichetta.

É: _keep an eye on the prank war pls_

M: _so avoid the hospital and take lots of photos??_

É: _you’re amazing_

 

_One Day Until Christmas_

 

The argument had reached the _Stand Off_ stage (the fourth of five stages declared by Courfeyrac the year before) by the time Éponine, Cosette, and Azelma arrived, bundled in enough coats, scarves, and gloves to sink a ship. Grantaire on one side of the kitchen, chopping vegetables in more and more erratic shapes, and Enjolras on the other side, halfway through slicing a loaf of bread and brandishing the knife for effect. At least, Éponine hoped it was for effect.

“What is it this time?” she asked Bossuet, who had skulked in to get something from the fridge before tripping over the table leg. Neither Grantaire nor Enjolras looked over. In fact, for a seemingly heated argument Enjolras didn’t look like he was going to explode with righteous indignation and Grantaire didn’t look two minutes from storming out.

“We’re thinking this is the one actually,” Bossuet stage whispered. The boys didn’t blink.

“ _The one?_ ” Cosette whisper whispered back.

“Yep. I mean, look at them.” The four of them turned back to watch. They were migrating towards the centre of the room with only the kitchen table between them now. “Besides, I have insider information.” There was a pause; Éponine, Azelma, and Cosette clearly waiting for more information.

“ _Well_ ,” Azelma prompted, knocking shoulders with him. “Don’t keep us hanging.”

“I’m not sure which one of them it was. I mean, my money would usually be on R, but he really can’t keep secrets from us, and besides, I’ve never won money on anything. As I was saying, I’m not sure which one of them it was but look,” he pointed at the light fitting above the kitchen table. There was a fucking sprig of mistletoe.

“Oh my _god”_ Éponine groaned.

“Oh my god!” Cosette squealed.

“Oh _my_ god,” Azelma smirked.

“That pretty much sums up the situation, yes,” Combeferre said, sneaking in behind them, walking around Grantaire and Enjolras, filling up a water jug, and walking back to the doorway without interrupting them once. “Oh, Bossuet, if what we think is happening, is happening, you owe me fifteen.” And with that he was gone as quickly as he had come.

“Oh fuck yes,” Éponine turned on her heel and stalked into the lounge room. “So many of you owe me so much money if this happens!”

“Why?” Azelma asked, while the rest of the room sighed in unison.

“Because I’m the one that put money on it being disgustingly sappy no matter who broke first. For some reason this lot fail to see just how disgustingly cute E can be. And,” she put to the room. “I’m guessing mistletoe counts as disgustingly sappy?” They all nodded dejectedly.

When, not even ten minutes later there was a crash and then silence from the kitchen, Éponine ended up with two handfuls of notes. Ah, Christmas Eve- a time for miracles. And maybe new pyjamas for the kids; Gavroche still hasn’t changed out of the primary coloured dinosaur ones he’d borrowed from Musichetta the night before.

No one quite wanted to be the first into the kitchen after that. Éponine found herself squashed into the corner of the world’s comfiest couch for the second time that week. Gavroche was leaning against her legs this time, curled up on the floor driving Yoda the cat to distraction with a toy car and a ribbon. Azelma, wedged in between Ép and Musichetta (who was painting Azelma’s nails to match Gav’s pyjamas), leaned in to whisper in Éponine’s ear.

“We should get him a cat for his birthday.”

Éponine bit back a smile.

“Oh,” she whispered back, not turning to meet Azelma’s eyes. “And how are we going to afford that, hmmm?”

“I’m thinking a combination of saving, maybe getting Cosette to join in, and the money we ah, _borrowed_ from mum and dad.”

“Alright,” Éponine grinned, wicked and a little vindictive at the thought of Azelma relieving their parents of money. “Let’s try and make it work.”

“We aren’t going to let him name it though, right?”

“Oh _god_ no!”

 

 

They all rotate through the kitchen. Courfeyrac and Bahoral have already thrown together an enormous pot of soup, Enjolras slicing the bread because he is not allowed near actual cooking ever. Grantaire made the only ratatouille Azelma will eat – admittedly it is, for no reasonable reason, the best ratatouille. Feuilly and Marius, having picked up ice cream on the way over from work, get out of cooking duties, leaving the meat to Combeferre, and the salad to Musichetta, who has a knack for dressings. Azelma and Gavroche set the coffee table while Cosette and Éponine clear the counters and start prepping dessert.

When all the bowls, plates, and glasses were full, and all the seats were taken, Chetta stood up at the head of the table. The room fell as silent as a room full of sixteen rambunctious, hungry people could.

“Well, we made it,” she began, smiling magnanimously around at all of them. “We survived, and I honestly don’t know how we all did that before we found each other.” A resounding ‘hear, hear’ nearly drowned out the end of her sentence. “Last Christmas was our first together. I know some of us don’t celebrate it and some of us don’t have family in the city –“

“- And some of us don’t want to see the ones we do have,” Éponine whispered to R. He winked.

“- But spending Christmas with you makes missing out on my big family extravaganza easier.” Musichetta, Éponine had found, was not terribly sentimental except for the weeks between Christmas and her early January birthday.

“What your gracious host is trying to say is you are very welcome –“ R cut in.

“ – We love you very much – “ Joly added.

“ – Merry Christmas, and dig in,” Bossuet cheered.

“Tis the season to be Joly,” Musichetta and Grantaire sang as they all started serving themselves food.

 

 

Gavroche had never had trouble getting to sleep on Christmas Eve. He had never believed in Santa, and knew better than to hope for a stocking full of presents. Azelma on the other hand, at the age of sixteen, had still not grown out of the excitement. Even if it had meant being let down on Christmas morning when the only presents she received were from her siblings. When twenty minutes had passed after her most recent attempt at pulling an ‘I can’t sleep ‘Ponine, can’t I just stay up with you’ Cosette started sneaking around their apartment.

“I never thought I’d do the whole Santa thing,” Éponine whispered. She didn’t feel particularly comfortable with the idea of giving false hope to small children. She also didn’t feel particularly comfortable depriving small children of hope altogether. Her feelings on Christmas were a work in progress.

“You know you’re not getting their hopes up if you follow through, right?” Cosette whispered back. If Éponine didn’t know any better she’d swear Cosette was actually an elf or something; she managed to add decorations to their kitchen, pull a gingerbread house out of thin air, and produce the two enormous stockings Éponine had bought two days before in a manner of seconds it seemed.

She passed Éponine a gold pen along with the stockings before hurrying into their bedroom.

“What am I supposed to do with these,” Éponine hissed after her.

“Write their names on them!” Well, that made sense. Éponine’s handwriting was much neater than Cosette’s, who usually only managed to get the first couple of letter out before her loopy script became illegible.

“Also, you’re their sister,” Cosette smiled, coming back with the presents they’d bought, as well as the ones their friends and Valjean had wrapped and sent along for Gavroche and Azelma.

“It’s terrifying when you do the mind reading thing, you know that right?”

Cosette’s grin was wicked.

 

 

When the presents were all deposited in the neatly labelling stockings, and Éponine had managed to wrap Cosette’s present when she’d taken _Witches Abroad_ – the latest in her Pratchett re-read – into the bathroom with her, she snuck into her old bedroom. There were now several posters on the walls, books and comics she’d never been particularly interested in on the shelves, and the outline of a mural on the wardrobe in the corner that Azelma had started sketching. It looked thoroughly lived in. A welcome change from the off white walls of the hotel bedrooms, where not even the permanent residents unpacked. She leant the stockings against the wall opposite the bed before tiptoeing around and kissing Azelma on the forehead. She was walking around the bed to kiss Gavroche without falling face first onto him and waking him up when she realised that wouldn’t be a problem.

“Hey, you’re awake.”

“Mhmm,” he sat up before reaching out for a hug. “Thanks ‘Ponine,” he whispered into her shoulder.

“You’re welcome. For anything. But what in particular are we talking about now?” He tugged on her ponytail.

“I kinda see what the movies about Christmas were getting at.”

“ _Really,”_ she asked sceptically.

“Oh yeah,” he grinned. “Big dysfunctional families, things going wrong, nice looking food,” she rolled her eyes. “Everything coming together in the end.”

“Thanks kid.”

“G’night.”

“Goodnight.”

 

_Christmas Day_

 

Éponine woke up to a confusing, but distinct, buzzing excitement.

“Can you turn down your Christmas Cheer, please,” she mumbled into her pillow. Reaching out blindly she slapped her hand against the bedside table twice before making contact with her phone. “It’s only,” she blinked. “Bloody hell, it’s only 6!”

“Merry Christmas,” Cosette sang in a whisper. Éponine smiled, eyes still closed.

“You’re such a dork.” She was rewarded with a bop on the nose. “Merry Christmas Cosette,” she added dutifully.

Éponine had never been the sort of person who could roll over and go back to sleep. It was, on occasion, very annoying. But she was glad for it this morning. She rolled out of bed, pulling out her hair tie and picking up her towel as she went.

“They’ll sleep a little longer if we let them,” she looked at Cosette pointedly. Cosette put her hands up, placating and promising.

“I’ll be good, I swear.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Éponine rolled her eyes. It seemed it was impossible to live with Gavroche and not pick that habit up again. “I’m taking first shower.”

 

 

Padding down the hallway, hair dripping down her back and only a towel on – it had taken her a while, but she’s so used to it just being her and Cosette now that putting proper clothes on straight away seems, pointless, and painful considering the size of their bathroom – Éponine heard Cosette humming carols before she saw her. Blonde curls swinging around her head, getting more tangled, as she turned to smile at Éponine, a mug full of coffee in her outstretched hand.

Éponine, taking the coffee and placing it on the bench, pulled Cosette in, kissing her before she can think twice about it. Cosette leant into the kiss, humming happily. When they stop, Éponine not moving far, Cosette smiled up at her, tucking a strand of still wet hair behind her ear.

“What was that for?” She doesn’t sound surprised, making exactly one of them.

“For making this Christmas special for the kids. For helping me keep them here. For making me a home in the first place,” Éponine kissed her again, just a quick brush of her lips on Cosette’s. “For making me feel like fucking domesticity could be, you know, a real thing.” Cosette chuckled. “But mostly for being you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Éponine said like it was the easiest thing in the world, because how could a person not love Cosette? She was irritatingly loveable. She loved Gavroche and Azelma, and she made Éponine smile, and she never tried to change her. She ticked all the boxes. “Alright Christmas fairy, let’s go wake the monster and Azelma.” Cosette took her hand.

“You realise we had kids before we even kissed?”

“Shut up Cosette.”

 

 

Azelma is sitting up in bed, looking extremely put together in a way that suggests she didn’t sleep at all, but her eyes are sparkling, and her eyes dart between the stocking and Éponine, when the girls walk in. Gavroche, also awake, was sitting on the windowsill, fully clothed with bed hair.

“Merry Christmas,” chorused around the room. For only four people it seemed to go on for quite awhile, all of them echoing each other until they were giggling, smirking, or attempting to hide a giggle with a smirk.

“Go on then,” Éponine gestured towards the stockings. The kids dove across the room, yanking things out and raving about various gifts. From what Éponine could tell Gavroche’s favourite were the Heelys from Courfeyrac and Combeferre, and Azelma’s was the IOU from Bahoral and Musichetta promising to take her shopping. Éponine had a sneaking suspicion that Bahoral had seen the small bag of clothes Azelma had brought from the hotel and decided to rectify that without stepping on toes. Honestly, her friends were sneaky bastards.

Cosette, dragging Éponine’s arms around her waist from where she is leaning against her front, turns slightly to whisper.

“Told you we’d give them a good Christmas.”

Azelma and Gavroche exchanged glances. Then, moving like they’d practiced, or at the very least discussed how they were going to do this, they each darted over to their wardrobe grabbing packages neatly wrapped in paper decorated with the doodles that Azelma’s school notebooks are always covered in.

“You guys didn’t have to – “Éponine has started before she’s faced with three nearly identical glares. She never had a chance of not caving to them. She can hold onto the hope that there are still two people in the room that don’t know it. Yet.

“Yes we did,” Azelma said.

“Just say thank you,” Cosette added.

“Thank you.” Looking over at Gavroche Éponine winked, taking the gift from his outstretched hand. She had never really understood the urge to unwrap presents slowly, taking the time to preserve the paper, but the loops and swirls of Azelma’s wrapping paper gave her pause. Inside was, of course, a mug hailing her _SISTER OF THE YEAR_. She absolutely did not have any tears in her eyes at all, no sir. Éponine smiled – it was slightly watery. Cosette gasped delightedly. She had unwrapped a collection of sparkly multi-coloured bangles.

“Thank you,” she gushed, wrapping Azelma in a hug and sharing a fist bump with Gavroche. “I love them.” Being Cosette she put them on straight away, pyjamas be damned.

“Do you like your mug?” Gavroche asked almost shyly. Éponine nodded, wrapping her arms around him tight and squeezing.

“Did you make it at school?”

“Yeah. They asked us to make mugs for a parent. But I figured,” he trailed off. Éponine squeezed him tighter.

 

 

Cosette snuck out at some point during their present debrief, kissing Éponine’s temple as she went. She would have lunch with her father, but Éponine remembered some vague plan Cosette had had to coax Valjean back to their apartment for dinner.

When the kids were dressed Éponine presented them with their two choices.

“We have invitations to hang out and have lunch at Grantaire’s, the other three are at Bossuet’s sister’s place today, or we can go to Cosette’s dad’s, if you’re up for that.”

“Are _you_?” Gav asked pointedly. And, yet again, Gavroche had a point.

“Okay, well, I mean, Feuilly also extended an invitation, although I’m fairly sure it was mainly for you ‘Zelma. He said we could join him at the soup kitchen he’s volunteering at today. I don’t know. I’m no good at this. I was planning on, well, not much. I know I’m no good at this. You’d probably be better off –“

“Where? Where would we be better off?” Azelma demanded, crossing her arms. “We’re best off with you Éponine, and you know it.”

“I don’t want you anywhere else. That’s not what I meant. I meant… I don’t know… I guess I meant, I love you, but I know I’m no good at this whole happy families thing, so if you want to split up today I’d be okay with that. And you know, I know I’m not really a better role model than they were so -”

What was she saying? She wasn’t even speaking in coherent sentences anymore. Damn emotional holidays.

“Ugh ‘Ponine will you shut up for a second,” she caught herself before making a truly embarrassing parental remark about winds changing and faces staying the same when Azelma exaggerated her eye roll. “I love Cosette. She’s like the annoying big sister I never had because you were too busy mothering me. I think Grantaire’s… well, no, I think Musichetta’s the coolest because it’s impossible to meet her and _not_ think that. But R is pretty cool. I’d like to do what Feuilly does. I think it’s amazing, and I think I could be good at it. But god ‘Ponine, I don’t want to be them!” She took a deep breath, seemed to reign in anger and replace it with exasperated fondness. “I want to be like you.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, you idiot.”

“What about you kid?” She looked at Gavroche who was regarding both his sisters like they were complete idiots. Situation normal.

“Nah, I wanna be like Bahoral.” Sure. That made sense. “But I don’t want to spend Christmas with anyone else.”


End file.
